Exhibitionism
by Forgetful01
Summary: Gamzee/Dave. I blame Synne for this


The thrill of having sex in front of people not necessarily with them knowing.

You had never contemplated this before. Sure the variety of your fetishes grew far and wide and was known as such, but you had never thought of that before. As usual it was Makara's idea. He brought over some scotch and you had it on the rocks, as was tradition, and maybe you had one too many. Maybe. Probably.

He said there was a party going on right down the street where he would hang out on nights when he wasn't crashed on your futon. You were definitely too far gone to think about going to party that the fucking troll went to, but really, you couldn't say no to Gamzee. Well, you could, but you didn't want to. He gave you this thrill, this rush of being alive, and after the Game, that was something that you desperately needed. You needed to feel alive.

So you stumbled down the apartment stairs with him, holding onto the railing. You didn't trust stairs, drunk or otherwise. He kept a tight grip on your arm as he steered you down to the awaiting street and you both started walking. It was already late at night, and you weren't really paying attention to where you were going. After stumbling over one too many cracks in the sidewalk, he looked like he was ready to just carry you piggy back style. Bridal style was much more appropriate though.

You could hear the music before anything else. It had a deep bass and screeching metal guitar solos, and you could already feel it thudding through the soles of your shoes. Gamzee smiled and put his arm around your shoulders, something he rarely did, and you went inside.

It was a three story house, four if you counted the basement. All around you was smoke and drinks being poured and passed around. Gamzee broke away from you for a second and you stood there like an idiot, not knowing where to go or what to do. When he returned he had something thin and small on the tip of his forefinger and he gently cooed at you to open your mouth. You obeyed and he placed it on your tongue, then took your hand and led you toward the stereo.

Just like that everything was normal again and you were dancing with and against Makara like nobody's business. Nobody was really paying attention to you two and as he slid his arms around your hips, guiding you with the pace of the music, that's when things started to get weird. The wall behind him started to wave back and forth like you were seeing it through water and without realizing you were laughing. He had that same dazed look in his eye and he chuckled as he awkwardly kissed your lips.

Half an hour after dancing, you were parched and he led you to the corner of the room where a cooler was waiting for them. He handed you a drink and you gratefully gulped it down, the rush spinning your head again and you leaned against him to keep from falling. His hands were on your hips again and slowly you rotated, your chest pressed against the wall and he positioned himself behind you, grinding forward.

You couldn't help but smirk knowingly and ground your hips in return, coaxing him on. Within seconds his fingers were at the buckle of your pants, pulling them down just enough. You shot him a warning glance but he shushed you. Nobody could exactly what they were doing anyway. To anybody else they were just another sexually frustrated couple, dry humping against a wall. Not that you would have cared if anybody else saw you. Gamzee dipped his hand down the front of your pants and started to pump with that same sporadic rhythm that nearly drove you insane, while his other fumbled with his zipper.

He adjusted you slightly, ass poised out to him and hands against the wall for support, and before you could even really get your bearings he was already pushing inside of you and you had to cover your mouth. He halted for a few seconds, watching you carefully as you swallowed hard and spread your legs a little more. A rush spread from your head to your groin and for a wild second you wanted him to go as hard as he possibly could, fuck anybody who could see it.

He kept up with the rhythm of the music, which was fast in general but slow for the two of you. You still had your mouth covered and he softly grunted into your ear, his hands keeping a bruising vice grip on your hips. He was whispering now, calling you out on just how much you enjoyed being claimed in front of so many people, to be owned and displayed for how they really acted together.

His hand kept up the pace and he had to bite down on your shoulder to keep from attracting any attention. Just the wild thrill of if somebody caught them had you groaning into your fist, your hips moving with and against his in the same mannerisms as if you were dancing. Just as the bass got louder and the pacing got too tough, you made such an uncool noise that your ears flushed and you spilt over into his still moving hand.

He pulled out at the last second, sticky ropes of indigo landing over your exposed cheeks and running down into your pants. Any other time you would have been pissed, but you couldn't care right now. He pulled your pants up and turned you to face him, kissing hard. You straddled your legs around his waist and he held you up, holding you against the wall.

And for once, you had to admit that he had a good idea.


End file.
